


Following Through

by kimmyjarl



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: M/M, Slash, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimmyjarl/pseuds/kimmyjarl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One month after the battle with Shishio, Kenshin goes to visit his master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Following Through

Kenshin sat on a log, the low sun hot on his back, the lingering heat from the furnace on his face. The newly baked pots were giving off small tinkling sounds as they cooled together with the stone. Hiko Seijuro was sitting next to him on the log, his silence like an invisible wall between them. His master had not looked at him once since he had arrived.

“Master, I…”

Kenshin fell silent. One month ago he had came to this place with a purpose. He had something to learn and someone to defeat. It had been different, approaching his master then, driven by his own urgency. Now? Now he couldn’t find anything to say. Nothing that felt right.

Hiko leaned forward and reached for the narrow tools which lay lined up like doctor’s instruments on white cloth on the ground. One by one, he picked them up. A stylus, a hook, and something that looked like a small blade. They were all made out of wood.

“Can I help you with those?”

“No.”

Hiko laid the tools on his knees. They looked fragile in his hands, hands which were large and darkened by the sun. And strong… almost too strong, it seemed, to handle such fragile tools. But Kenshin knew better. His master had made those tools.

Picking up a small bottle, Hiko uncorked it and drabbled some of its content on a corner of the white cloth. His every movement was slow and filled with purpose, and – Kenshin thought – specially designed to let his guest know that he was intruding. Hiko started to wipe the blade like tool with the cloth. He was applying oil to the wood, Kenshin realized, and he glanced at the small bottle standing in the grass. It was curved, painted in bright colours. Another thing that seemed out of place on his master’s mountain.

Hiko reached for a new tool. His fingers glistened, covered with a thin layer of oil. Kenshin watched the white cloth move over the wood. At the pit of his stomach he felt a flicker of unrest.

The last tool was the hook. Hiko used a dry part of the fabric to rub away any access dampness. He leaned down to place the tools on the ground, in a line as they had laid before. He cast Kenshin a quick glance as he straightened, his eyes narrow under uneven strands of hair. Kenshin took a slow, slow breath.

“Master…”

Hiko cut him off. “You shouldn’t call me that.” His voice was harsh.

“No?”

“I’m not your master, not after…”

“After I said that I wouldn’t be your successor,” Kenshin said, the words like a sigh.

“No, before that.”

Kenshin leaned his head back and squinted at the sky. There was something in Hiko’s words, something that was more than just pique. He could hear it, not in his voice, which was deep and commanding as always, but in the way he had trailed off, and in the silence that followed.

“I’m sorry,” Kenshin folded his hands on his knees. There was a long pause. “It’s true that I went against your teachings,” he finally said. “But I never lost my regard for you, and I never stopped thinking about you as my master.”

A brief snort. “Pour your heart out, why don’t you? Fool. No one wants to listen to that.”

“I see.” Kenshin smiled, a tone of quiet amusement entering his voice.

Hiko looked at him again – a glance out of the corner of his eye, almost to quick to detect. Kenshin felt something that made his throat tighten and his heart beat faster in his chest.

Intuition. He’d call it intuition.

He stood up. A breeze touched his face and tugged at his clothes. It felt nice, easing the stifling warmth around him. “But I am sorry,” he said. “And I’m not just talking to you as my master.” Kenshin stepped closer, placing himself in Hiko’s line of vision.

“What are you getting at?” There was a warning in Hiko’s voice, and a harshness that sounded like suspicion.

Kenshin took two steps forward, two steps that left him standing between his master’s knees. Hiko looked up, his mouth slightly open. Kenshin met his eyes, unsmiling and grave. He placed his hand on the back of Hiko’s neck, making him flinch. Leaning close, he put his lips against the other man’s ear. “You are my master, but you are also yourself. Isn’t that right… Seijuro?”

Hiko leaped to his feet. He stepped backwards, almost stumbling over the log. “Kenshin! What do you think you’re doing? I don’t like- I don’t enjoy- I’m not that kind of man-” The words coming in a rushed jumble.

“I know.” Kenshin glanced to the side, down the hill, at the slow movements of the trees. Hiko was standing still, the breeze stirring his white cloak. Stepping over the log, Kenshin approached his master, and he didn’t stop until their bodies were almost touching. His eyes were barely level with the other man’s chest. A very tall man, his master.

“What do you want?” Hiko’s voice was tight and strained.

Kenshin didn’t say anything. He reached out and closed his fingers around the other man’s wrist. Meeting stiff resistance, Kenshin lifted Hiko’s hand and placed it against his face. He breathed out, his breath against Hiko’s palm, long fingers pressed to his cheek. They stood like that, some of the resistance disappearing from Hiko’s arm. Kenshin let go of the wrist, and his master let the hand stay on his cheek for a brief moment before he lifted it away. The taller man’s face was pale, his eyes wide. He looked, Kenshin thought, like he had taken a hit to the head and wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“Your cloak,” Kenshin said. He tugged at the white fabric, making sure that Hiko knew what he was talking about. “Lend it to me.”

“Wha… Now you want it?” Hiko blinked, some of that stunned look disappearing from his face. He lifted his hand and started to pull at the knot that held his large cloak together.

Kenshin caught it as it fell, some of it’s weight on the ground, some in his arms. It was heavy, like a living thing. He spread the cloak out on the grass and pulled on the edges until it lay smooth. Standing on the side of the cloak, Kenshin stepped out of his sandals, and bent down to place them side by side on the grass. Noticed that his hand shook the slightest bit, and he paused until it became steady. He stepped up on the white fabric, it was soft under his socks. Knelt down and straightened his clothes, all the time aware that Hiko was watching him.

“Come,” Kenshin said. “Sit down with me.” He looked up, the sun getting in his eyes. His master stood silent and immovable in his short sleeved gi, shadows across his face. His presence was impressive, filling the clearing with a dark, vibrant energy. Kenshin saw no reason to deny it: Hiko Seijuro was a thoroughly intimidating man.

Kenshin lowered his eyes to his hands, where they were resting on his legs. He waited, his back straight. After a long moment Hiko bent down to take off his boots, his black hair slipping over his shoulder to brush against the ground. He sank down to sit cross legged next to Kenshin.

It was not easy, but Kenshin reached out to touch his master. He ran his hand down his bare arm, stroking skin and trailing muscles. He leaned his nose against Hiko’s shoulder, and smelled warmth and sharp nervousness. Not pausing, Kenshin moved his hand to the other man’s chest, found the straps that held his shirt together and pulled it open. His fingertips glided, exploring Hiko’s chest by sense of touch alone. Feeling for the mark from his sakabato, he was relived when he didn’t find it. He lifted his face from Hiko’s shoulder.

“May I?” Kenshin pulled at Hiko’s shirt. At his murmured words Hiko made a slight movement to help as the garment was taken away. He seemed distant, as if he didn’t quite want to acknowledge what he was doing.

Kenshin looked at his master, let his eyes linger on his sharp features, at his powerful back and slim, muscular waist. His hair, thick around his face, hung down his back in an neat stream. Kenshin felt his stomach tighten. The hint of… of whatever he had felt earlier came back to him, much stronger this time. Not desire exactly, but something that preceded desire.

Hands flat on the Hiko’s chest, Kenshin moved to straddle his hips. He leaned close and wrapped his arms around the other man’s back. Everything around them was muted and still. Kenshin let his hands glide over Hiko’s back, light touches that slowly seemed to gather a warmth of their own. A warmth under his fingers, a warmth where their bodies pressed against each other. He scraped his nails down Hiko’s spine, his fingers slipping under the belt to stroke the back of his hips. He squeezed Hiko’s sides, and he felt the taller man take a long, unsteady breath. His arms around Hiko’s neck, Kenshin pressed his lips to his temple, to his cheek, to the edge of his mouth. He traced feather light kisses along Hiko’s jaw and opened his mouth, wetly, against other man’s throat. He pushed himself closer with slow, firm movements. He would use no evasion, no coyness, in this.

“Master,” he whispered.

Hiko touched his back, tentative touches against his shoulders, before his hands fell away. Kenshin caught a glimpse of his master’s eyes, and saw something feverish in their depth. He pushed on Hiko’s chest, but it was like pushing a wall, he didn’t budge at all. “Lie down,” he whispered, and Hiko started. He pushed again and was met with no resistance this time. The larger man lowered his back to the cloak. Hiko’s eyes were closed, and his lips parted in a shaky breath.

Sitting across Hiko’s stomach, Kenshin bent down and traced his tongue up his chest to suck at the soft skin at the base of his throat. His thumbs sought out Hiko’s nipples, rubbed, slow and steady, and felt them swell and harden under his fingers. He took one nipple in his mouth, to suck and nibble. Bit down, thumb pressing hard, and thought he heard Hiko sigh. His own breath was hot against his face. He lay down, his cheek on Hiko’s chest, his thigh between his legs. Rocking his hips, Hiko moved to meet him, letting Kenshin feel the other man’s hardening length through their clothing.

Kenshin got to his feet and stood, somewhat shakily, next to his master. He started to undress, systematically as if he was making himself ready for bed. Last he removed his loincloth, and for a moment he stood still, feeling the wind against his skin. Hiko frowned at him, raised himself to his elbows, a prominent bulge at the front of his pants. The lines around his mouth was harsh, and his brows crinkled in something that looked like distress. He started to sit up.

“Master, please…” Kenshin knelt, his arm around the other man. “Please, let me…”

Hiko was tense, but he eased himself back to the ground. “Yes,” he said, voice silent like a breath. Kenshin wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t been so close.

“Yes?” Kenshin asked.

Hiko didn’t say anything more. He closed his eyes and lay still, as if he was telling Kenshin to get on with it.

“Um… aah…” Kenshin felt undecided, his thoughts awhirl. A blush crept over his cheeks, making him feel like his skin was burning. He stood up, raised his hand to his mouth to suck on one knuckle. He was… getting something? Yes, now he remembered. He walked to the log and picked up the small bottle of oil.

He knelt by his master and reached out to untie the belt around his waist. There was no sign of protest. Kenshin stroked his hands down the other man’s sides, and Hiko lifted his hips, allowing Kenshin to push the fabric away. Solemnly he let his fingers glide down his master’s erection. His touch was light, barely grazing the smooth skin. Reaching the base, he closed his hand around the length, the tips of his fingers not quite able to meet. Felt a pang of desire, causing his to lean forward on his knees. The muscles on the inside on his thighs quivered, lines of tension leading to his groin.

Kenshin raised his hand, one stroke up and down, and saw Hiko’s cheek brush against the white cloak as he tossed his head to the side. He moved to sit between Hiko’s legs, the cloak soft under his knees, Hiko’s thighs on either side on him. He lifted the bottle, removed its plug with his teeth, and poured the oil over his hands. The oil was cool and transparent – like water, he thought. Slick water that stuck to his skin and glittered red in the light of the setting sun. He placed the bottle to the side and wrapped his hands around his master’s erection. He stroked, the thick, hard length gliding easy in his hands, aided by the oil.

The pace he set was slow at first, but it soon became brisk, rough and demanding. Kenshin’s body was damp with sweat. Hair stuck to his face, and he felt tendrils running down his back. Panting, he wiped his chin on his shoulder. Hiko’s legs pressed against his sides, slick, as the other man pulled him closer. The muscles of his arms trembled and his hands tightened. Hiko’s breathing was harsh and raspy in his ears.

Kenshin paused, hands around the hard member. Hiko turned his head to look at him, his cheeks flushed. Their eyes met in a moment of silent communication. Hiko raised his eyebrows slightly – a hint of approval – and the corners of his mouth turned up in a tremulous smile.

Kenshin bent forward, guiding the length in his hand towards his mouth. His tongue reached out, not quite touching, and saw Hiko’s eyes widen. Saliva gathered in his mouth. He leaned closer and felt the other man jerk. He licked, long strokes on the sensitive tip, tasting it on his lips. His hand skimmed over wet skin, squeezed a burly thigh, feeling small tremors going through the other man. Kenshin panted, closing his lips around his tip, letting his tongue circle. A track of saliva ran down the back of his fingers. His hand resumed the up and down motions, wet sounds in his ears. He moved his mouth lower, sucking and whirling his tongue in thick caresses.

Hiko moaned, long and loud.

Kenshin shivered, and felt his master’s hands on the back of his head, gliding over his hair, stroking the slope of his neck. A very tentative touch. Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear broke free and landed on his wrist, forgotten.

He lifted his head, breathing hard. The colours around them was muted, the grass dark next to the white robe. The air felt damp. There was an aura of warmth around them, heat radiating from Hiko’s skin.

“Kenshin.” A whisper. Hiko’s hands were clutching the fabric of the robe.

He had been avoiding his master, avoided him along with the memories. It had been so hard to come back, so hard to let his old lessons be the foundation of new ones. Hard to kneel in front of a grave.

Kenshin took the small bottle and poured oil over his fingers. His eyes on Hiko’s face, he lowered his hand between their bodies. Hiko wet his lips and his grip on the cloak tightened. He paused when he touched Hiko’s skin, pulled back, wary, before he lowered his hand again. He stoked between Hiko’s buttocks, the oil blending with the sweat. Hiko’s chest raised and fell, his knees bent, hands straining against the cloak. Kenshin rubbed his fingers against the other man’s opening, keeping his touch firm and steady. Hiko grunted, and Kenshin bit his lip, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He pushed three fingers inside, forcing them through, and pressed hard against the soft wall.

“Ooooh!” A half surprised exclamation. Hiko threw his head back, revealing his throat.

Kenshin braced a hand on Hiko’s stomach, feeling the muscles spasm. His other hand pushed back and forth, the oil slick against his fingers. Felt the other man’s hips rose up to meet him.

“Master.”

“Aah,” Hiko breathed. He bent his knees further, and raised his feet off the cloak. He hooked his arms around his knees, spreading his legs, and pulled them up against his chest.

Kenshin leaned back, swaying on his knees. He felt dizzy, spots appearing before his eyes. Hiko lifted his head and stared at him. His face was expressionless, half concealed in the dusky light. And yes, Kenshin thought. Even like this, with his feet in the air, Hiko was a very intimidating man.

It almost made him smile.

He found the bottle again and poured the remains over his own erection, spreading the oil with a few firm strokes. He took a deep breath, telling himself there was no room for anything else – no hesitation allowed. He moved in close, bracing himself on his knees and his toes, the tip on his length against Hiko’s flesh. He eased into the tight passage, not pausing until he was fully sheathed, the front of his hips tight against Hiko’s rear. Hiko gave a sound between a moan and a sigh. He pulled out and pushed back in again, rocking them both. A distant part of his mind noted that this position allowed him a great deal of leverage.

He began to move, his strokes hard but lingering. Watched sweat streak the large planes of the other man’s body, and heard him grunt again and again. Kenshin grit his teeth. He looked down, hair getting in his eyes, and saw Hiko’s large organ bob in time with the thrusts.

“Fuck.” He gasped, tasting sweat. Every muscle strained, pushed, thick and tight, back and forth. Opened his mouth to fill his lungs, and felt something tilt. Silence descended over his senses, a sea of emptiness around him. The movements felt mechanical, as wave upon wave washed over his back, driving him onwards.

“Kenshin!”

Hiko called his name, and Kenshin raised his head to look at him, the world settling around him. His master’s eyes were closed, his mouth half open. Naked. Breathtaking. Kenshin stared. He wished… wished…

Their bodies moved together, thick and solid. Undeniable.

His master… who was willing to walk the line between life and death for his sake. His master who was still willing to teach him, still willing to give him a second chance. His master who he had hurt, but who was still willing to show it. Willing to sit down with him, to let go of his uneasiness and his anger. Willing to put it all to the side and just… give in.

Hiko moaned, deep in his throat. “Uuh… uuh… uuh…” His head moved from side to side, tresses from his long ponytail coiling over the cloak.

Kenshin gripped Hiko’s erection. He brought his thumb to the head, smearing sticky wetness. Bent down and took the tip into his mouth. His thrusts became faster, shorter, more urgent. He sucked, hard. Hiko moved his legs to close them behind Kenshin, hot against his sides. Kenshin deep inside of Hiko, hold immovable by a grip of iron. He pushed his mouth lower, pulled back, and felt the other man shudder.

“I want… I want…” Hiko’s voice was the lower bass. “Kenshi… nh! Aaaaah!”

Hiko’s release gushed into Kenshin’s mouth, and he closed his eyes and swallowed, fluid escaping to run past his lips and down his chin. Stroked his master’s hips as they bucked, as another burst hit his tongue. Hiko’s shout echoed in his ears.

Trembling, Kenshin pulled his erection out from the hugging warmth. One hand slid on Hiko’s stomach, and he found his face pressed to a wide chest. Pushed himself up, bodies full against each other, his arm behind Hiko’s neck, his mouth on Hiko’s throat, and Kenshin felt his own orgasm sweep over him like a tide, taking him completely by surprise in a way, crumbling and dissolving everything in its path.

The water rushed in to cover his head, and the surroundings went black.

Next thing he knew he was looking at a star. A single speck above the dark treetops, alone on the pale sky. Kenshin sighed, and moved his head on Hiko’s shoulder. They were lying down – no, they were sitting, Hiko cross-legged with Kenshin across his lap.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“For a minute, yes.” Hiko’s voice was a whisper.

They sat in silence, the air cool against Kenshin’s back. His heart, which had been beating hard in his chest, slowly returned to normal. Kenshin felt his eyelids starting to droop.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Hiko said. “Lain with men.”

Kenshin blinked, his eyes focusing. “Yes, I have,” he murmured. He might have added an explanation, an excuse or whatever, something along the lines of, ‘but it’s nothing that I do lightly’. He didn’t, however, because Hiko’s voice had a tone that he knew very well. His master was working his way to a point, starting with a simple, concrete question to let it follow with something that was a lot more abstract, a lot harder to grasp.

“So you were looking for an answer,” Hiko said. “And that’s what you ended up with? Sex?”

A small smile stretched Kenshin’s lips. This reminded him so much about the conversations he had had with his master during his childhood, except back then they had talked about swordplay, about strength, about duty. “Sex” was a word that he didn’t think he’d ever heard his master use before.

“An answer? I wouldn’t put it quite like that.” Kenshin took a slow breath, thinking. “I listen to my intuition, and I chose my path. After that it’s just a matter of following through.”

“A matter of following though?” Hiko pushed Kenshin back and stared into his eyes. The large man smiled, although it was more like a sneer than an actual smile. “I bet you said the same thing during the Bakumatsu.”

“Huh?” Kenshin blinked.

“’If I only follow through, it will be worth it in the end.’” Hiko mimicked Kenshin’s voice, speaking as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

“That’s absolutely right.” Kenshin smiled. “You know me too well.”

“Hm.” The other man’s face was unreadable.

“Master?”

Hiko touched Kenshin’s cheek, light fingers trailing the contours of his lips. “I think…” He wiped his thumb over Kenshin’s chin.

“Yes?”

“I think you’re an idiot. I’m really, really mad at you.”

“Because I…?” Kenshin fell silent and glanced at the cloak on the ground.

“Yes! No! It’s a general fucking feeling. And stop laughing at me!” He grabbed Kenshin’s shoulders and started to shake him, not at all gently.

“B-but, Master!” Kenshin’s gasped to get air into his lungs. “Please tell me… how you feel. P-pour your heart out… it’s good… for you.”

“Bastard!” Hiko shook him harder.

“H-hey.” Kenshin’s head snapped back and forth. He tried to move with the shaking, but he was too tired, his muscles screaming in protest. And he knew that, although his wounds were healed, he still had a long way to go before he regained his usual strength. “H-hey.”

Hiko let go of him, and he sagged against the taller man’s chest. His head was spinning and he felt faintly sick to his stomach.

“You alright?” A gruff question.

“Yes.” Kenshin straightened and leaned his head on Hiko’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and waited for the spinning to stop. It didn’t take long. “I’m fine, thank you.”

They sat in silence for awhile, Kenshin with his eyes tightly closed. “Say…” he whispered. He lifted his head to look at Hiko. The other man’s arms hung down his sides and he was fingering the white fabric of his cloak, a slight frown on his face. Kenshin shifted on his lap. “Seijuro?”

There was a long pause before Hiko answered. “Yes?”

Kenshin moved closer to whisper in his master’s ear. “I liked it when you touched me. I liked it very much. Could you please put your hands on my back?

“Put my hands on your back?” Hiko’s voice was low and thoughtful. “I suppose I could do that.”

And he did.


End file.
